LOGINSara Michaels
The first light of dawn crept through the curtains. Sara sat on the bottom step of the staircase, knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around herself. The house was silent except for the faint tick of the clock in the hall each second stretching longer than the last. She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t moved much since returning from the hospital, the taste of Tom’s cold refusal still bitter on her tongue. Her mother’s pale face, her fragile breathing shallow kept flashing behind her eyes. She thought about the amount. Fifty thousand dollars. A number that never felt impossible before, she was a rich man's wife afterall. But now it was a number that could steal her mother away if she didn’t fight for it. She heard his car engine roaring before she saw it: the low purr of Tom’s car rolling into the driveway. The engine cut off and a door slammed. Then another. Sara’s heart lurched. She stood slowly, smoothing her wrinkled dress with trembling hands. She had rehearsed this moment in her head all night…every word, every plea. She would beg. She would swallow her pride. For Mom. She heard footsteps on the porch and then front door opened. Tom stepped inside…indeed he was tall at 6’6, in a black sharp-suited suit, his silky hair still perfect even after a red-eye flight. And behind him, Emily Madrigo. She wore a tiny cream silk dress that clung to her like it had been painted on, lips red, eyes glittering with triumph. She didn’t even look surprised to see Sara. Sara’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t expected to see her own husband bringing home his lover. They were not even divorced yet. “Tom…” Her voice came out small and cracked. “I need to talk to you.” He didn’t answer right away. His gaze slid over her in a disgusted and dismissive way…like she was a stain on the marble floor. “I told you to be gone.” Emily's eyes welled with tears. “Oh, Mr McCarthy, maybe I should leave. She is your wife after all. She deserves you. I guess our childhood dreams won't be fulfilled now.” Sara’s cheeks were stained with tears as she watched Tom rush to wipe Emily's tears, as if they burnt her skin. “Shiii…. Nonsense, you and I shall live our dream. Sara won't be a problem.” She took a step forward. “Tom, please. Mom’s in the hospital. She has kidney failure. They need fifty thousand dollars for surgery upfront. You took everything. The accounts, my savings… it’s all gone. I’m begging you. Just this once. For her.” Tom’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Emily, then back at Sara, like she was wasting his time. “I don’t owe you anything,” he said flatly. “You had your chance. You should’ve left when I told you.” Emily stepped closer, heels clicking on the marble. She tilted her head, studying Sara like she was a curious insect. “You know, it’s almost sweet. How pathetic you are. Did you really think he’d keep your name on the accounts after everything? After he realized he’d wasted three years on… well, on *you*?” Sara’s breath hitched. She looked at Tom, searching for any trace of the man who’d once begged her to marry him. “Tom… you said you loved me. You said you’d do anything for me. You cried when I said yes. Was that all a lie?” He exhaled through his nose, impatient. “I thought I did. Then Emily came back. And I remembered what real love feels like. Not this boring house wife, and clingy, needy thing you are.” The words landed like punches. Sara swayed, but she didn’t fall. She stepped closer to them, till they were face to face. Emily wrapped her arm on Tom tightly. “I’m not asking for love,” she said, voice steadier now, though it shook. “I’m asking for fifty thousand dollars. For my mother. She’s dying. You can’t just leave her to die because you hate me.” Emily smirked. “Oh, we can. And we will. You’re not his problem anymore, Sara. You never really were.” Tom turned away, already moving toward the stairs. “Pack your things and get out. I’m not doing this again.” Sara’s vision blurred with tears, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “No. You don’t get to walk away. You took everything…every dollar I had, every hope, every second I spent loving you. You owe me this. Not for me. For her. She funded your business when you were almost bankrupt, we equally contributed.” Emily laughed again, louder. “Listen to yourself. You sound desperate. It’s embarrassing.” Sara ignored her. She kept her eyes on Tom. “One check. That’s all I’m asking. Fifty thousand. Then I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.” Tom looked down at her…for the first time since he walked in. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt? Pity? It was gone before she could name it. “No,” he said. “I’m done. And I never asked you or your family to help.” He brushed past her, shoulder knocking hers. Emily followed, hips swaying, tossing a final glance over her shoulder. “Better hurry, sweetheart. The movers are coming at noon.” When Sara married Tom, his company faced serious financial issues. This forced her to turn to her mom, who was managing Sara's small company at the time. She begged for the company to be sold so that the funds could save Tom's company. Her mom refused at first, but because of the love Sara had for Tom. She agreed. Tom promised to always take care of them, because they had nothing afterwards. He never complained before, at least that's what they thought. Sara stood frozen in the foyer, ears ringing. She sank to the floor, knees hitting the marble. Tears came fast. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Stood up. Squared her shoulders. She had no money. No home. No husband. But she had her mother. She watched as Tom was about to go up stairs with Emily, then she quickly ran after him and grabbed the hem of his jacket. He turned in a swift motion. “What? Haven't I told you to sign the papers and leave?” “Wait…I will sign the papers and leave. But only if you help my mother and also, let me stay for a month only, at least I will have a job by then. I will not get in your way. I promise.” “And if you break your promise?” He simply asked. “You are free to do whatever you want with me. I'll accept your punishment. Please help my mother.”The elevator doors slid open on the executive floor with a soft chime. Heads turned instantly. Phones were lowered mid-scroll. Conversations died. Emily stepped out in sky-high heels, cream trench coat draped open over a scarlet dress that hugged every curve like it had been sewn onto her skin. Her red hair caught the overhead lights and burned.A junior analyst froze, coffee halfway to his mouth. “Is that…?”“Emily Madrigo,” someone whispered behind a cubicle wall. “The model. Holy shit.”She smiled—slow, practiced, devastating—and the floor tilted toward her.A marketing coordinator was the first to break. “Oh my God, can I get a selfie? My sister’s obsessed with you.”Emily laughed, light and generous. “Of course, darling. Come here.”Within seconds there were five people around her, then ten. Phones out. Autographs scribbled on notepads, on the back of business cards, on someone’s forearm. She signed everything, posed for every shot, called every girl “sweetheart” and every guy “h
Kingsley Salvatore"I fucking hate mornings..."The morning sun was still weak, barely cutting through the gray haze that hung over the city. I pulled the car up to the curb in front of the McCarthy mansion, engine idling low. Mariah... sat in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in her lap, her cleaning bag resting between her feet like it weighed nothing.She looked smaller today...older, somehow. The lines around her eyes deeper. She’d been quiet the whole drive, staring out the window like she was memorizing every tree we passed.I killed the engine.“You sure you don’t want me to walk you in?” I asked.She shook her head, small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m fine, mijo. You’ve already done enough driving me around like I’m some fancy lady.”“You are fancy,” I said. “To me, anyway.”She reached over and patted my hand warmly, steady, the same way she used to when I was ten and crying because the kids at school called me an orphan. She’d raised me after my parents died in tha
Sara MichaelsThe next morning came too soon.I stood under the shower longer than I should have, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders until my skin turned pink. Yesterday’s cold still lingered in my bones...like the patio water, like Tom’s stare, like Emily’s laugh echoing in my ears. I scrubbed hard, as if soap could wash away the humiliation, the memory of standing soaked and shivering while they watched from above.When I stepped out, steam fogged the mirror. I wiped a circle with my palm and looked at myself.Tired but not defeated.I opened the closet. My clothes...once neatly organized, now shoved to one side to make room for Emily’s endless designer pieces...felt foreign. I hadn’t worn anything nice in weeks. Hadn’t wanted to. What was the point when every day felt like punishment?But today… today was different. I had class.Kingsley’s academy. 10 a.m. sharp.I deserved to look like a person, not a broken thing.I pulled out a pair of skinny jeans I hadn’t touche
Tom McCarthyThe office smelled like fresh coffee and money, the way it always did on launch mornings. Floor-to-ceiling glass, city skyline bleeding gold through the blinds, my team buzzing quietly...behind frosted partitions. Everyone moved fast..headphones on, fingers flying over keyboards, voices low and urgent. They knew what today meant.One successful launch and McCarthy Tech would cross the billion-dollar valuation line. One flawless rollout and the investors would stop breathing down my neck. One clean execution and I’d finally be untouchable.I sat at my desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, staring at the final build on my triple monitors. The app looked perfect..sleek UI, smooth animations, metrics green across the board. My product lead, Marcus, hovered near the door, arms crossed, waiting for the word.“Everything’s locked,” he said. “Servers are scaled. Beta testers gave it 4.8. We’re ready whenever you are.”I nodded once. “Give me five minutes.”He left quietly. The doo
Kingsley SalvatoreI woke up with Sara's name already in my head.Damn it, I knew it was weird because she is married.I lay there staring at the ceiling, with one arm thrown over my eyes, trying to push the image away. It didn’t work. She was there…clear as yesterday. Those glacier-blue eyes red from crying she tried to hide. The way her voice shook when she talked about how passionate she was about coding , like she was learning in order to set herself free. The quiet way she held that class card like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.I rolled onto my side, sheets twisting around my legs.She looked so damn distressed and fragile, and completely broken. There was something stubborn under all that pain, something that refused to bend. It reminded me of someone else. Someone from four years ago.The memory came so sudden, the way it always did when I let myself remember.I remember the heavy pouring rain, the screeching tires and metal from my car twisting as it
Sara MichaelsThe house was colder that morning, even though the sun was already climbing high outside the windows from the dark clouds..It almost looked.like it may rain. I stood in the kitchen, hands still damp from washing the breakfast dishes Emily had barely touched. My finger throbbed under the fresh bandage from yesterday’s cut. Every little sound from upstairs made my shoulders tense…The sound of Emily’s laughter, Tom’s low voice answering her, the occasional creak of the floorboards. They hadn’t come down yet. I told myself it was better that way. Better not to see them together. Better not to let my heart bleed again in front of them.I wiped the counter slowly, trying to keep my mind blank, when the door swung open behind me.Emily walked in wearing one of Tom’s silk shirts….my favorite one, the pale blue he used to wear when we went out for dinner. When he was still in love with me. It hung loose on her, the sleeves rolled up, the hem brushing her thighs. She looked l







